Dear God..
I lay my heart
before you,
yet again.
Now, in your hands
it lays exposed..
naked and bare.
For, naught but
mighty hands of yours
possess the strength..
its nakedness to bear.

Though I have
utmost faith
in your All-seeing
providence..
still I am scared.
Still I am …

Tell me, dear Rabbi..
Why is it that we call
our regular partaking
in religious ritual
“observance”?
If we are the observers..
what exactly
may be said to be
observed?
Is any holy meaning
latent in this word?

Dear Talmid..
That which is observed
in our observance
of religious ritual …

What if Jesus
never resurrected?
And on the third day
when they rolled away
The Heaviest of Stones..
They didn’t find
His tomb to be quite empty,
but instead..
they found His rotting Flesh..
surrounded by a stench
of Death?
A stench to chill
even the most devout
of …

Tell me..
What possibly
could be..
more beautiful
and giving..
than a rose?

If anything,
then it must be..
The Rose
that you
are given
privilege..
to carefully
de-thorne.

Article by article,
until she’s naked..
naught but smooth
and silky skin
upon the skinny flesh
that dresses bone.
And …

It takes a villain
to give meaning
to a hero..
just as The One
may only find
its sense in binary..
as opposition
to The Zero.

If someone
must be him
then why not me?
The Mask of Melpomene
fits rather snuggly
on my face..
that’s all I mean …

“You’re just like
all the other guys!”
My dear..
you are dead
wrong!
Unlike the other guys..
I’m in a league
of my very own.

They’ll talk their shit
and take piss
out of you
behind your back..
then innocently smile
before your very face.
Whereas,
I …

the lesser muses
didn’t get the memo..
they still thinking
they are slick..
in truth, however,
I’m the mother fucking
spirit realm John Wick.

I sense the tides
of when they come..
and when they go.
the only muse
that is resistant
to The Devil’s pull,
in …

What is so beautiful..
about Death?
The only aspect
of The Poet
that he hasn’t paid
auto-lip service to..
quite yet.
The very best
is saved for last
and Death is no
exception to
this rule.

Death treats
all people fairly..
whether they be
king or commoner..
or genius …

What is so beautiful..
about The Earth?
Is it the way he
grounds himself..
in his own sense
of inner worth?

Is he the biggest
of all planets?
Or The One that has
impressive rings?
Nayy on both counts..
He is the planet
that just doesn’t care
about what …

What is so beautiful..
about The Rose?
That makes him
stuff of poetry..
ineffable by means
of merely prose?

Might it be his
crimson petals?
Or his prickly thorns?
Or is it the fragrance
that surrounds him..
as an aura of
his inner beauty..
following him
anywhere he goes?

The …